When Fischer met Zen
by Empress of Cornwall
Summary: This short piece is composed in an attempt to break out of a bad bout of writers block and as you may well guess my perverse fixations with Rufus Sewell and Mads Mikkelsen have yet to be exorcised. My fan fiction is high on the fiction - so my story is entirely out of my imagination, although I freely borrow the lovely persons of Allan Fischer Unit One and Aurelio Zen from BBC's
1. Chapter 1

When Zen met Fischer

This short piece is composed in an attempt to break out of a bad bout of writers block and as you may well guess my perverse fixations with Rufus Sewell and Mads Mikkelsen have yet to be exorcised. My fan fiction is high on the fiction - so my story is entirely out of my imagination, although I freely borrow the lovely persons of Allan Fischer (Unit One) and Aurelio Zen from BBC's 'Zen - two agonizingly beautiful detectives.

A report from Interpol landed on Zen's desk. His current position as Superintendent (at least until Mascati had recovered from his heart attack) of the Homicide department at the Questura di Roma, gave him both added responsibilities and certain freedoms but he couldn't pass this one over to anyone else –not even to Vincenzo Fabri - much as he'd like to do it. It was something about an Antiquities theft and a violent murder scene outside the fortress remains at Trelleborg, Denmark – the lead archeologists and two of her graduate assistants were found shot multiple times at close range - execution style - while a part time student worker was in a coma. The site had been torn apart and the trove that the late Professor Magnusson had mentioned in her notes was gone. All evidence pointed to an illegal arts and antiquities trafficking ring based in Rome. The Danish police were sending a Detective from one of their elite homicide units and Aurelio Zen was to act as his liason.

Zen sighed. "Denmark" he thought gently rubbing his heavily lidded peridot green eyes and cupping his lightly tanned face in his palm trying to remember his grammar school geography which one of those bitter northern ice clogged nations was Denmark – some stocky bearded giant with ruddy cheeks and blond hair – blunt, loud and not very bright, he imagined – blinking his eyes slowly trying to resign himself to this situation. He quietly twitched his straight black eyebrows, and gently scratched the side of his long slightly aquiline nose. "What to do. What to do..."

Aurelio had high cheekbones and a wide clean mouth cut in a slightly oval face – he was 6 foott tall, fit and well-built, his muscles were compact and trim, he has what some people called a swimmers physique - his skin was warm and subtly tanned, and his hair, even when cut short still tended to curl and was a luscious dark brownish black. He dressed in Armani suits, not out of some vanity but because they were well cut and designed. Aurelio was practical - they were expensive suits but classic and they lasted, and wore well. Women eyed him with admiration even while he failed to notice their glances. Zen was not handsome - he was beautiful – as profoundly yet shockingly beautiful as a Botticelli angel. And now this 'angel' was now responsible for sheepherding some dull witted Viking through the chaotic and corrupt world of the Italian police department. '_Misericordioso…'_

Air Italia flight 1100 from Copenhagen was landing at gate C18. The tall man with the exacting physique of a dancer was curled somewhat uncomfortably in his seat - his height made modern air travel a little uncomfortable. His pale skin and startling severe cheekbones set off his golden brown eyes and his black/brown hair was slicked back over his scalp (La Cour was still nagging him to get it cut… well La Cour was in no position to argue about style with anyone…Good God even old man Ulf was more glamorous that La Cour!) His generous mouth had a hint of cruelty to it and his smile had a wolfish angle. His lips were cupids bow tempting, their softness only brought the severe masculinity of his other features into sharp relief. In jeans and a plain shirt slightly rumpled he began to prepare for landing. He had only a carryon bag, his visit to Rome was not the holiday he and his wife – _ex-wife_ - had once planned. He felt bad about their failed relationship. He'd hurt Mille and his little Victor…His affair with Ida wasn't really any healthier – he knew it would all end badly - but it was too late to dwell on it now. The plane was landing. He'd reviewed the case over and over on the flight. He only hoped that this Italian he was to work with was serious sharp and committed and not some silly playboy or gigolo. Once most of the other passengers had exited he stood fluidly, grabbed his carryon bag and strode out of the plane nodding to the crew. He smirked at the blowsy busty air hostess who purred at him "Save me from these Italians..." He shook his head gently almost unperceptively as he passed into the airport. Looking about the vicinity with the focus of a hunter, he tried to remember what Gaby has said about his contact from the Questura di Roma. The sun was bright and Allan squinted in the light.

A man in an Armani suit with sunglasses and curling dark hair approached him with a hint of hesitation… no tubby Vikings had gotten off the plane so far – had his contact missed the flight?

He paused, and in English called out in a voice that was redolent of warm caramel (if warm caramel could have a voice) "Detective Inspector Allan Fischer?"

The tall wolflike man eyed him for a moment and answered him- "Allan Fischer, Danish Homicide Unit One - Are you Zen?" his voice was as sweetly husky as sin and he half smiled as he spoke.

Zen removed his sunglasses... This was NOT what he'd expected.


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two - Barbarian at the Gates of the Questura di Roma

This short piece is composed in an attempt to break out of a bad bout of writers block and as you may well guess my perverse fixations with Rufus Sewell and Mads Mikkelsen have yet to be exorcised. My fan fiction is high on the fiction - so my story is entirely out of my imagination, although I freely borrow the lovely persons of Allan Fischer (Unit One) and Aurelio Zen from BBC's 'Zen' - two agonizingly beautiful detectives.

_Zen removed his sunglasses... This was NOT what he'd expected. _

The tall Dane gave him a long look with his piercing amber eyes. Aurelio imagined he had nothing to prove to this pale northerner so he simply smiled very softly and held his gaze. Then his cell phone rang. Zen's face twitched softly as he glanced away and pressed his phone to his ear. 'Zen.'

It was Tania.

Zen's face lit up – Tania had left the Questura some months ago, not long after her soon to be ex-husband had shot himself in front of both of them. Through some paradox he hadn't died. Tania had left her job and moved back in with her ex to try to work it out - really out of guilt – but Luca'd suffered a stroke soon after he was released from the hospital. Zen knew about the situation but he hadn't wanted to impose – he wanted her back desperately, but he also knew that she needed time. _Now_ she'd called him…"Where are you?" he purred, the tall northerner suddenly forgotten.

"Back at the Questura." she answered. "Luca's dead…"she sighed,"He's gone ….and I - I've been reassigned back here. I - I wanted to see you again. I miss you… They said you'd gone to the airport?"

"It's a case with Interpol – I needed to collect someone …I'll be back at the office soon…wait for me…Ciao."

Zen's face became animated at the thought of her. He looked back at the 'Viking' and he smiled his charming crooked smile, his head tilted to the side.

"Ahh -Yes I'm Acting Superintendent Aurelio Zen … Welcome to Rome. I'll be working with you on this case. Do you have anything else to collect? "

Allan shook his head – this Zen - this fellow in the Armani suit … this was just what he'd been dreading... _Useless…_some hopeless playboy. Well Fischer thought - at lease I'm a professional. "I'll tell you about the case on the way to the station."

Traffic in and around Rome was – well – _challenging -_ to strangers, but Zen found that there were fewer cars on the road than he'd expected. He listened to Allan review the case the execution style wounds and the veritable destruction of the immediate site. Allan felt that there might have been an ulterior motive for the crime, was this a violent case of an illegal antiquities theft - or it might well be part of something bigger… Zen listened carefully to the rich raspy voice of the homicide detective. Once they were near the Questura Zen suggested they stop for an espresso. To Fischer coffee was coffee and he knew he could use a cup.

As they entered one of Zen's favorite coffee houses, the rich atmosphere, the dark wood and the gleaming brass and copper espresso maker, splendid and almost overpowering with its elaborately carved eagle – made Fischer smile his wolfish smile. Zen asked him what he wanted but Fischer had to admit that he really didn't know much about espresso. Zen nodded the way he'd nodded in the past at some of Vincenzo's irrational outrageous schemes – and placed two requests to the barista - a pretty thing who had in the past often flirted with him. But today she seemed indifferent to Zen - her eyes locked on the 'Viking' and her olive skin seemed to turn several shades richer. Fischer leaned closer and asked her about the gaudy ornate espresso machine and she giggled and blinked her huge eyes at him. Zen was a little bit disconcerted, Italian women were world class seductresses but he'd never heard one giggle like this over a question about coffee. Soon two perfectly made cups of espresso awaited them in their tiny cups. Zen noted (he was a detective inspector and acting superintendent – _he had to notice these things_) that Fischer's cup was more ornately served – she'd also set out a larger than usual tray of sweet biscotti and capetsole de venerai for them. Zen glanced at her then back at Fischer. Fischer gave the barista a lupine smirk - his lip partially curled to the side, exposing his sharp almost predatory teeth. Zen pulled some coins from his pocket but she waved them away. He left the money on the bar as they retreated to a booth.

"Mille would have loved this place…" Fischer commented looking around at the rich mahogany wood panels and the ornate fixtures.

"Mille?"

"My ex-wife. She always wanted to visit Rome -but there never seemed to be any time."

Zen nodded in consolation - he knew how difficult and painful divorce could be… Even though he felt he'd been a loving, attentive husband - it still felt like a failure. Nibbling at the sugary sweets the barista had given them – he asked about the case, who knew about the excavation site, might someone involved with the dig have tipped off the criminals to the trove... and Fischer began to reconsider his first impression of Zen. Maybe this fellow wasn't just a pretty face after all. Zen was also reconsidering Fischer – if Tania was back at the Questura - his sweet Tania - was this fellow likely to be trouble?

Zen swallowed his espresso in one gulp as all Italians did, Fischer tried to follow his example and half choked on the heavy bitter drink. Zen's face as always was alive with expression.

"Not used to it Detective Inspector Allan Fischer? Don't worry - you will be soon enough."

"Just call me Fischer."

"Then just call me Zen."

"It doesn't seem a typically Italian name…"

"It's Venetian."


	3. Chapter 3

Part Three _I know a lovely land_

This short piece is a continuation on a theme intended to break a bad bout of writers block and as you may well guess my perverse fixations with Rufus Sewell and Mads Mikkelsen have yet to be exorcised. My fan fiction is high on the fiction - so my story is entirely out of my imagination, and is non-canonical to either series, but I've freely borrowed the lovely persons of Allan Fischer (Unit One) and Aurelio Zen from BBC's 'Zen' - two agonizingly beautiful detectives. "I know a Lovely Land" is a very rough Anglicization of the first verse of the Danish National Anthem.

"Zen - zed ee en -It's Venetian…"

Fischer nodded, "Venice – yes, I read about the history of Venice – I think that the name came from the Latin for 'we're here'..." Zen smirked and twitched his eyebrows in amusement at Fischer's remark. Fischer continued, "I'd like to go there some day… well I should like to go over the evidence we collected from the crime scene in more detail in your office."

Zen smiled. This fellow Fischer seemed to not be the loud clumsy Viking that he'd dreaded, the espresso was good, the thought of seeing Tania again made him jocular – things were working out far better that he's imagined and Zen felt triumphant. "Well - you Norwegians are all business huh…"

The cozy coffee house suddenly seemed chilly as a sudden and curious silence fell. Fischer gave him a look that froze him in his tracks, as once again Zen couldn't help but think of the predatory nature of a very aggressive wolf.

"I'm from Denmark." Fischer's voice was low and quiet - very quiet - too quiet. Zen didn't so much hear him as 'felt' his words in an artic chill that coiled up his spine. He found himself starting to sweat and shiver at the same time - not since the Fazzo case, out in the woods - or the time he'd spent in Sicily had he felt this way. Zen stood slowly blinking his luminous pale green eyes, his lips turned down slightly at the corners… all that passed his mouth was a less than elegantly phrased "Mmmm?"…

Fischer's words came like a freezing wind off a fjord as he spoke. His honeyed eyes gleamed, and were redolent of the eyes of some wild bird of prey - "I'm not Finnish or Norwegian and _I'm certainly not Swedish_. I'm a Dane - I'm from Denmark – is that clear?"

"_Is that clear?"_

The palest jewel green eyes locked with golden feral ones. Zen knew one thing at that moment – he wasn't going to provoke this – this…

"**Dane**" Fischer's voice - like gravel sifting at the bottom of a deep well, like thunder on a distant shore, like waves lapping on a beach strewn with amber – intoned calmly.

"_Dane_ … errr quite - quite…" Zen shook himself.

There was a long silence then Fischer gave Zen a slow smile. "I just get a little sensitive sometimes…"

Zen wondered if it was all that cold and snow that made these Scandinavians so volatile and savage…

Back at the Questura, Zen told Fischer where he should store his weapon and excused himself for a moment to see Tania. She was in his office. Once he's closed the doors of the office he feasted his eyes on her, her olive skin, dramatic features, her sensual, pillowy lips, warm black eyes and her luscious hair that seemed to shine like silk. In her effort to mourn for her estranged ex-spouse, she'd become perversely erotic to Zen.

"Aurelio" she whispered as she stood up – trembling they both paused. Each of them was desperately trying to control themselves while still attempting to gage the others needs and desires. They threw themselves at each other.

"Thank god you're here…" he muttered into her throat as he kissed her.

"I've missed you so much." she sighed stroking his hair and sliding her hands over his cheeks.

"I need you - you have no idea how very much I need you…" he moaned

"I've moved back to the flat for now…Can I see you tonight?" she asked.

"Yes - look - about this Interpol case …I'll need your help – I need someone sane on my side…"

"I've got some messages for you and someone called Fischer – something about historians and archeologists arriving tomorrow … Why are you meeting with historians? Who's Fischer?"

"He's a 'Dane'…" Zen rubbed his hand over his face "This Interpol case involves murder and antiquities theft…I just hope these academics just aren't Danish too…"

"Call me - you have my number- after work …" she whispered into his ear; her warm breath was deeply arousing against his sensitive skin. Zen tried very, very hard to compose himself …

Outside Zen's office another officer had made Fischer comfortable in a room set aside for larger meetings. He'd set out the evidence collected from the site outside Trelleborg, the photos of the bodies and the damaged site – the fragile archeological site was scarred the ground torn up with tyre tracks from a stolen jeep found abandoned not too far from the site. Even to a hardened homicide detective the images of the bodies of Dr. Karen Magnusson and her assistants shot at close range 'execution style' were disturbing. Fischer understood that any archeological finds at this site would have either been stolen or damaged beyond repair but the violence implied in the killings was troubling – most antiquities thefts involved trespassing and damage but he'd never seen this sort of blatant slaughter involved. He imagined that there was more to this than just an antiquities theft. Fischer made himself comfortable after a while, and stretched his long legs up onto the table top as he leaned back in his chair. – Zen would be back soon - Fischer guessed he was checking up on his girl. He could wait.

Doctor Edward John Izkandr had been contacted by Interpol to assist with an antiquities theft – he'd interrupted his working holiday at Herculaneum to travel to Rome to be of help. Edward or EJ as her preferred colleagues and friends to call him was an Englishman, although he preferred to see himself as a citizen of the world as his work had allowed him to travel through Europe, much of Russia, Australia and the North American coast, either as an archeologist, scholar or lecturer.

He was about 5 foot 6 inches tall, with blue grey eyes, dark blond hair cut rather short and he sported a goatee on his slightly squarish face. He was solidly built - his years of excavation had reddened and worn his skin, and while he acknowledged that he wasn't classically handsome he believed he could be kind and charming. He was a world renowned expert on early Scandinavian culture, respected by his colleagues and happy in his work, yet he felt haunted. Rome was not the happiest place to be when you were a successful but lonely scholar. Most other archeologists in his field of expertise were either older men, or women who were married or just not interested in him. He'd heard about the college and graduate school 'groupies' who sometimes attached themselves to academics such as himself but he knew this to be more a myth than a fact, besides he wasn't going to damage his career by getting involved with a student – even if there had been any students pestering him for _that sort_ of attention. The train he was taking to Rome was quiet, and rather than wallow in self-pity, EJ opted to review the thesis that he would be presenting to the EAA conference in Helsinki in September. He smiled - Helsinki was such a lovely city.

Independent of Interpol, Ingrid Dahl, D.I. Fischer's chief, had contacted Elsbeth P. Petersen, scholar, historian and academic to help with the case. Elsbeth was familiar with Dr. Magnusson's work and was a friend of Ingrid's - they'd met at a party some years before and she had done her best to help the very private chief inspector grieve the death of her husband Soren. Ingrid hadn't told her about the crime scene or the death of Dr. Magnusson, she had just asked her for some 'professional' advice related to an antiquities theft.

Professor Petersen's mother was English and her father was Danish. She'd been born in Cornwall but raised in Copenhagen and she was fluent in Danish and English, as well as having a good understanding of Russian and a practical knowledge of Italian from her childhood visits to family friends living there. She was five foot two with pale blond hair and green eyes, and only her petite size made her stand out as 'not stereotypically' Danish. She loved both sides to her nature but she sometimes wondered where she really belonged. Much of her youth was spent traveling from Denmark to Sweden to Italy then to England, and while many people might love such a peripatetic life Elsbeth rather envied those folks who were more rooted in one place. Her work involved travelling - so she had grown use to it. There were about two weeks before she was due for her holiday in Moscow, so she felt that she could happily take some time to help out a friend. Besides, it had been years since she'd been in Italy - she wondered if she'd have time to look up her childhood chums while she was there. The flight would arrive in about two hours, and she knew not to expect anyone to meet her - it would be getting late. She'd head straight to her hotel and contact the Homicide department in the morning. She needed a long rest and maybe she's visit the day spa.


	4. Chapter 4

Part Four _Afternoon, evening and morning _

A continuation on a theme intended to break a bad bout of writers block. My perverse fixations with Rufus Sewell and Mads Mikkelsen have yet to be exorcised. My fan fiction is high on the fiction - so my story is entirely out of my imagination, and is non-canonical to either series, but I've freely borrowed the lovely persons of Allan Fischer (Unit One) and Aurelio Zen from BBC's 'Zen' - two agonizingly beautiful detectives.

A few notes – Fornaldasorgur is a term referring to certain epic Scandinavian Sagas – often the creation myths, and legends & the ahistorical epics. As my command of Danish is not sufficient, please accept italicized comments in this chapter as 'Danish'. FCK refers to Football Club Copenhagen (soccer) a sport team that I imagine Fischer might follow.

Outside Zen's office, Fischer waited in the large conference room - the evidence collected from the site outside Trelleborg, the photos of the bodies and the damaged site. Fischer felt more and more persuaded that there was far more to this crime than simply an antiquities theft – most antiquities thefts involved trespassing and damage but he'd never seen this sort of blatant slaughter involved. Fischer made himself comfortable after a while, and stretched his long legs up on the table top as he leaned back in his chair.

Zen walked in. "So Fischer, show me what you've brought from the site." Fischer smiled knowingly and put his feet down. They examined the evidence,gleaned by the Unit One team, the disturbing images and the other police records. Fischer explained his concern about the violence of the attacks. Zen, impressed was inclined to agree with him, but he hoped that the historian and the archeologist could offer some insights.

Tania came in with the messages and information she collected for Zen and Fischer, Ingrid Dahl had downloaded the report La Cour had worked out examining the scene as well as confirming that in addition to Interpol's advisor she was sending a Danish scholar who was a friend of both Dahl and the late Dr. Magnusson. There were a few messages confirming the time estimated for the arrival of the advisors. Zen surreptitiously watched his lover walk in. Fischer was arranging some images on a white board, and she eyed the Dane as Zen nervously eyed her. Tania had already told Zen about her need for him to trust her and Zen wanted to trust her but it was difficult not to let his growing passion for Tania turn into possessiveness. He wanted her to know how much she meant to him but he feared this would seem as jealousy to her.

Fischer turned, glanced at Zen then noticed Tania starring at his back. He smiled at her – "So you're Tania?" he said politely, and returned to his work. Tania felt her olive skin flush slightly. She cleared her throat and mentioned that she left him the messages from Interpol and Ingrid Dahl. "Tak" Fischer muttered …

"Wot?" she responded…Zen and Fischer were communicating in English but Tania found the Danes accent in a language she was not very fluent in to be confusing…

Fischer turned and within two steps was at her side - he smiled at her, Fischer's eyes were hypnotic and dangerously lupine. "Thank you very much dear lady." He said slowly – articulating each word very carefully. He took the papers from her, and gently kissed the back of her hand. Tania said nothing but looked flustered and Zen watched this out of the corner of his eye, a frown pulling the edges of his exquisite mouth down. Fischer glanced down at the documents from Denmark, commenting that once they'd met with the academics the next day they could check La Cour's report.

Zen glanced at Tania while she patted at her hair and adjusted the collar of her oyster colored silk blouse. Fischer yawned behind his hand and addressed Zen, "I think that I'd like to check into my hotel – I could use some rest and we can get started in the morning when the Archeologists arrive." He looked at the name of the hotel and the address on a scrap of paper.

Zen glanced at the note, "That's not far from here – I'll take you over there – you should have no trouble getting back here in the morning. I'll be right back - Ms. Moretti could you please collect the evidence and place it in my office? Thank you." Zen tried to put all the passion he could into his quick glance but Tania kept her eyes averted as she collected the paperwork.

Once Zen got Fischer to his hotel, it was only about seven blocks from the Questura - Fischer agreed to report back in the morning.

"Take your girl out for a nice dinner." Fischer suggested smiling at Zen "She's pretty - but awfully bony…"

It was after eight pm once Petersen arrived at the hotel and checked in. While other visitors to Bella Roma might go out for a wild night of dancing and love, Elsbeth opted for a long bath and an early night - she felt exhausted. The trip wasn't difficult but she just suddenly felt melancholy - tonight she was dreadfully lonely. Her divorce, while well over a year old still hurt her - her ex-husband's cheating had emotionally scarred her and the handful of men she'd seen after the divorce had come and gone … Elsbeth knew that she was a bit needy, so she tried to avoid romantic situations. But she wanted love and felt starved for affection - so that anytime someone caught her eye she would just get more desperate - and the cycle would continue… She needed to get beyond this pattern, but she dreaded the pain of rejection. She had determined to try again and to try not to be so clinging - even when she was rejected again. She persuaded herself that she _would be_ rejected again, but Petersen felt that it couldn't hurt any more that her current sense of emptiness.

She unpacked and looked out something practical to wear for the Questura tomorrow and glanced at the options on the television as the water ran in her tub. She chided herself for her pathetically unglamorous lifestyle.

Channel 5 offered the 'Twilight' saga (Elsbeths' throat tightened in revulsion) Channel 3 had sport, Channel 4 offered EU news, Channel 12 had 'Titanic' … Elsbeth remembered how Karl, her ex, had always said that he thought she looked like Kate Winslet - she'd never seen any similarities - nevertheless she'd dyed her hair red to please him. "What a fool I was…" she muttered. Channel 10 was halfway through 'A Dangerous Method', but Channel 8 promised 'Tristan & Isolde' …she opted for the medieval romance over the cult of Jung and listened to the dialogue quietly from the bath.

Izkander had checked into his room earlier in the evening, enjoyed a light dinner and continued to review his planned lecture for Helsinki…there were points in his argument that he needed to double check before the conference. He woke early the next morning, a strange dream had troubled his sleep - something about a giant wall and strange stones falling like rain– he wondered if it meant anything - but he doubted it. After a shower, he had a breakfast of eggs, toast and fruit and started over to the Questura.

Zen welcomed in Dr. Izkandr, Fischer nodded at him and they sat for a few minutes making small talk. Izkandr was earlier than expected but Aurelio didn't want to shoo him away –now he was there the other academic should be arriving soon. "I wanted to thank you for cutting your holiday short to help us Dr. Izkandr. I'm expecting the other scholar shortly …is there anything I can offer you? You must be very tired after your journey … Expresso? Café Correcto?"

"I'd like some tea."

"Tea?" Zen paused, a tiny twitch manifesting on his cheek and glanced at Tania. "Do we have tea?"

"The drink's not popular here." Tania replied shrugging.

Izkandr looked dryly at Zen for a moment but before he could say anything the sound from voices approaching from the hallway outside the large conference room. A small blond woman was approached from the hall, escorted by Fabri. It was clear he'd been trying to chat her up but she was ignoring his less than subtle behavior – politely but decidedly - she was not interested. As usual with Fabri, he couldn't take a hint. She had white blond hair and was dressed simply in neat black slacks, a pale green silk tank top and a dark green linen jacket, and she caried a leather satchel. Izkandr stood as she entered, Zen noticed him and decided to follow his example - but Fischer remained seated. Izkandr grimaced at him and muttered something that Fischer snarled to hear. He began to stand as she passed through the door.

"_Fischer?"_ she spoke to him in Danish _"Ingrid sent me - EP Petersen."_ Smirking at the tall Detective she opened her satchel and tossed a newspaper to him _"Gaby wanted you to see the news about FCK …"_ Fischer smiled broadly and grabbed the paper.

Her eyes moved to Zen as he approached "Good morning Superintendent … Ari? It's really so good to see you again... How are you?"

"Have we met?" Zen wasn't trying to be presumptuous or rude - she just seemed awfully familiar to him but he couldn't place her. The notion that they might have once been lovers and now he was unaware of it, made him feel dreadfully cruel and chauvinistic. She wasn't unattractive at all, tiny but shapely, pale and blond with a heart shaped face and a gentle friendly demeanor, attractive in a quiet way, and sweet, but generally speaking she just wasn't his 'type'.

"Yes - but it was years ago, I certainly can't blame you if you don't remember - I've been asked by Chief Inspector Dahl to assist with an antiquities theft … Professor Elsbeth Petersen."

Zen smiled and struggled to remember when they might have met… she's spoken Danish a few minutes before and now she chatted in English to him, her accent perfect BBC received. How did she know him?

"I'd like to introduce you to Dr …" Elsbeth turned as Zen gestured to Izkandr. EJ just starred at her - she had the most open luminous dark green eyes he'd ever seen and he suddenly felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. Everything in Izkandrs' world was suddenly very, very still. She took his hand and gazed up at him with a reverence bordering on worship, Izkandr was a rock star as far as she was concerned.

"Dr. Izkandr?" She said quietly interrupting Zen and gazing at EJ– "this is a great honour sir – I - I consider you to be the greatest Fornaldasorgur scholar of our generation …" she sighed. Izkandr thought he'd never heard a voice that was so erotic – but then again what man didn't enjoy hearing himself being praised. "I was dazzled by your most recent essay on the influence of proto Slavic mythology on a modern rereading of the essence of the Heimskringla - your reinterpretation of selected verses of the Havamal…" She blushed slightly, "Well I must disagree with your translation of some of the text …perhaps you would spare me a few minutes later to discuss this …"

Izkandr's felt his blood pounding in his ears, she'd clasped his hand in both of hers as she spoke - good god her fingers were lovely, smooth and so slender. Unbidden, he found himself imagining her doing things to him with those hands… touching him… caressing him…

Oh god this was pathetic – he was getting aroused by a woman's voice and her hands… he'd been alone far too long.


	5. Chapter 5

.

The Investigation.

Izkandr's felt his blood pounding in his ears, she'd clasped his hand in both of hers as she spoke - good god her fingers were lovely, smooth and so slender. Unbidden, he found himself imagining her doing things to him with those hands… touching him… caressing him …Oh god this was pathetic – he was getting aroused by a woman's voice and her hands… he'd been alone far too long.

Zen suddenly felt quite out of his depth. He looked at Izkandr then at Peterson then back at Izkandr then he glanced back at Fischer, who – oblivious - was reading his Danish newspaper. "Would you like something to drink?" he asked Petersen, still struggling to understand where and when he could have met her… Tania brought in three cappuchinos and some sweets, and smiled at Elsbeth.

"Tea - if you could manage it please." she said tearing her eyes away from Izkander for a moment, and smiled at Zen like the cat who ate the canary.

"They can't manage tea… I asked earlier." Izkandr muttered with a smile to Elsbeth and they both starred at each other like little children with a magical secret.

"Well needs must when the devil drives – Please Ari… emm Superintendent Zen - could we have a small pot of the hottest water available, spoons and two mugs?" She turned back to Izkander "I can make a gypsy tea for us - I always carry oolong."

"A woman after my own heart." Izkandr smiled broadly "I would love some of your gypsy tea."

Fischer cleared his throat rather loudly.

"Perhaps later…." Izkandr threw daggers from his eyes at Fischer as he watching him melodramatically fold up his newspaper. He suddenly realized that he'd wrapped his left hand around Petersen's grip during their introduction and it had stayed intertwined with hers during the brief conversation and he had still not let go - he found he didn't want too…He squeezed her hand gently and helped her take a seat. Elsbeth blushed and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself and thinking over and over 'Not again…Not again…'

Zen thanked them for coming and explained that he and Fischer were investigating an antiquities theft with Interpol and that their assistance would be of great help… he also did his best to warn them in advance of the nature of the images they were to see.

The photographs were, as Fischer had noted before, quite disturbing. Petersen maintained a cool professionalism even when she had to identify the body of Dr. Magnusson. Dr Izkandr explained the tangled mess of strings flags and wires torn and mangled about the bodies that would once have carefully plotted out the contours of the excavation site.

"The site is ruined – violated…" Izkandr said troubled by the violence imposed on the excavation.

"Dr. Magnusson would have seen this as a good death." Elsbeth said solemnly

"A good death? Shot at point blank range?" Izkandr was surprised at the comment and at Petersen for saying it.

"I knew Dr. Magnusson. She was doing what she loved to do when she died. "

"Do you know what she'd found? Had she told you?" Zen asked Petersen. "There were rumors of a trove."

"No… She hadn't mentioned anything to me but it was almost two months since we'd last really talked. I doubt she would have known anything much about the find herself this early on -the site had only been excavated for a few weeks, and Dr. Magnusson was extremely methodological in her excavations. Do you have her excavation log book or records?"

"Anything at the site seems to have been destroyed or stolen. Even her assistants had their ids removed." Chimed in Fischer

"Have someone contact her office at the University. Dr. Magnusson would have kept a duplicate list of anything found either in her office or on her laptop… For the love of …_her assistants were shot too_?" Petersen rubbed her eyes with her fingers, and shuddered involuntarily. The fact that Magnusson - her colleague - was dead hadn't really dawned on her fully and the fact that her assistants - most likely graduates students – had also been killed made her feel numb.

There was a silence, then Zen - his highly emotive face now quiet with sympathy - suggested that everyone take a short break.

Fischer grabbed his leather jacket and patted the coat pocket to confirm that he had his cigarettes and a lighter. Nodding at Zen he headed for the door. Once outside the Questura he looked for the graffiti covered stone wall where the smokers enjoyed a little mid morning and afternoon break. It was sunny and Fischer donned his simple utilitarian sunglasses, stretched his spine against the stone wall and lit his cigarette. He felt his whole 6 foot 2 inch frame relax as he took a drag. Fischer tilted his pale face into the light - his severe features luminous in the in the sunshine - and vaguely wondered if he could manage to get a tan while he was in Italy or if he'd just burn.

"You look like a thug standing there in those rags..." Tania said good naturedly as she approached, a cigarette already in her hand. Fischer was aware of her presence, he could smell her perfume and he'd heard her tip tap footfalls on the pavement, but he said nothing at first. "Basta - I've forgotten my lighter …"

Fischer slid his glasses up onto his forehead and looked at her, his eyes squinting at her. "So - you insult me and now you want a light?" He smiled his half smirk at her as he offered his cigarette to help light hers. Fischer guessed that if he spoke slowly and carefully to Tania in English she'd understand him. He was better at English than at Italian English was compulsory in Danish schools from about age ten on, so he was pretty fluent – besides so many programs and films from the States or the UK were popular in Denmark - and although they were subtitled – one quickly got used to the intonation of the language.

Tania gave him a smile, relaxed against the wall and gestured with her index finger as she smoked. "You need better clothes. You… look like a - beggar or a - criminal. " she said - carefully choosing her words. He listened to her and smiled broadly as she listed his various sartorial faults, his face turned to the sun. He quietly stretched his long legs clad in well-worn, jeans and breathed deeply his loose knit tee shirt -initially a dark moss green but now a faded khaki - shifting slightly across his smooth muscular torso . His leather coat was still in the Questura as it was too warm to wear or carry outside.

"So you want me to dress in a fancy suit - like your boyfriend?"

"Yeah" she answered back, involuntarily admiring his cupids bow lips as he drew the last drag off his cigarette. She may well be in love with Zen – but she wasn't dead.

Inside the Questura, Elsbeth and Izkandr sat in the conference room. EJ looked at her as he sipped the Cappuchino he'd been offered in place of a decent cup of tea. It was half cold. "I didn't realize that you knew Dr Magnusson. I am so very sorry…" he said sadly. Izkandr was familiar with Dr. Magnusson's work but he'd never met her.

"Karen and I were colleagues and chums but we weren't as close as we might have been." She answered him "You might think me uncaring - but I know that she would have seen no sorrow in dying if she was doing what she loved best. We used to talk about it sometimes."

"Wyrd?"

"Yes, she feared dying in her sleep. Odd that - as most people would be grateful for it."

"What do you fear?"

Elsbeth started to speak and tried to stop herself - but she felt that her stumbling about only made it worse only made her seem stupid and shallow and utterly unworthy of this brilliant man's interest. Yet she knew she was a scholar of value, an academic who had found flaws in his well respected essay on the Havamal – _and she was going to correct him._ "A life without…"

"Without what?" Izkandr crouched in front of her and took her hand – he didn't know why but he needed to capture this woman's attention – he was desperate to see her green eyes - now downcast - again.

"A life without love – _isn't that just pathetic?_"


	6. Chapter 6

Elsbeth started to speak and tried to stop herself - but she felt that her stumbling about only made it worse - only made her seem stupid and shallow and utterly unworthy of this brilliant man's interest, even though she knew she was a scholar of value, an academic who had found flaws in Izkandr's well respected essay on the Havamal – _and she was going to correct him._ "A life without…"

"Without what?" Izkandr crouched in front of her and took her hand – he didn't know why but he needed to capture this woman's attention – he was desperate to see her green eyes again.

"A life without love – _isn't that just pathetic?_"

As soon as she stated that, something odd happened within Elsbeth. A sort of tightness - a tension around her heart - seemed to lessen or loosen, along with knowledge that there was nothing to be achieved by worry or stress. There was nothing to be done about it at all. She smiled at Izkander – "Really it's silly to be so worried about such trivia - I mean - I've nothing really to complain about."

Izkandr sighed, "No one wants to live without love – you're not alone in fearing that … I – I …" He wanted to tell her that love might be just around the corner and not to despair… but he imagined how pathetic it might sound to her…it sounded pathetic to Izkandr himself even as he thought it. Damn it, all the people who deserved love were denied it and it was the shallow heartless ones who got whatever they wanted.

Zen walked back into the room and Fischer returned from outside. And for the rest of the morning there were questions about the site; about the general dynamics of an excavation, how long would it take, how public was the site, what people might have had access…Elsbeth felt glad that Izkandr was there. He was witty, articulate and he answered their questions, he was an expert on these sorts of excavations. She enjoyed the sound of his voice.

After Fischer asked where Petersen was at the time of the crime, Izkandr decided that he rather disliked this detective. Petersen answered him "I would have been in Alesund, attending a lecture series. I'll try to find something to prove it to you if you'd like."

"Was Torholdsenn there?" Izkandr inquired.

"Yes, Anya Hizekawah made a most delightful presentation on the Gundestrap Bowl – but I wasn't impressed by Torhold's premise."

"Torhold's an idiot, best ignore anything he says." Izkandr winked and she smiled at him.

"Alesund?" Zen rubbed his forehead - trying to keep these two scholars focused on his questions was tiring, as was his fruitless attempt to try to remember more from his school geography classes.

"It's in Norway, Ari - I can show you on a map." Elsbeth said gently.

Zen glanced at his watch – "It's now time for lunch so I would like to suggest that we adjourn for the time being, to thank you both sincerely for your assistance in this case, and to ask if there anything else that you'd like to add to the information that you've so generously offered us?"

"I'll be happy to contact the Reader in Medieval Archeology at Aarhus University. Else can help to collect and send you all relevant copies of the excavation logs from Dr. Magnuson's office, I would also like to...to make a suggestion…" Petersen paused.

Fischer nodded.

"I don't think that this was an antiquities theft. I don't know what it was, but it makes no sense as an archeological theft or even as a vandalization…"

Fischer looked over at Zen, but he was too busy reviewing documents to notice.

"Are we free to go?"

"I'm sorry Dr. Izkandr, but we may need to speak to you two again - although you're both free for the rest of the day." Fischer intoned dryly – "Oh, I need to inquire of your whereabouts from June 18th through the 21st - please." Fischer gave him his most sarcastic smile and now Izkandr was _**sure**_ that he disliked this fellow.

Petersen approached Fischer and addressed him in Danish. _"What do you need me to provide from the Alesund Lecture series to prove my attendance?"_ _"Ingrid will contact you once you're home…So - how do you know Ingrid?"_ he said quietly to her. _"I met her at a party a few years ago, I was a friend of Soren's – I just wish she'd mentioned that Dr. Magnusson was dead before I got here…I guess she couldn't do that."_ Fischer nodded and Elsbeth continued, _"She mentioned that Ulf is still looking for someone from the team to get that FBI training..."_ He smiled at the prospect, and tried his wolf charm on her, but Petersen didn't react as he had expected. _"Fischer?"_ she added, _"My friend Zen is a good man …alright?"_ Fischer looked away, a tiny twitch animating the side of his lip. He understood exactly what she meant.

Izkandr glowered at the tall Dane. He knew enough Danish to follow most of what was said while trying for courtesy's sake to not eavesdrop, but he didn't think that this Detective Inspector was as respectful to Petersen as he ought to be. Elsbeth turned from Fischer and smiled at Izkandr. "Dr. Izkandr, I would like to ask you to take lunch with me, if you have no other commitments."

"I would enjoy that. Please call me EJ."

Zen had a headache and a sour stomach, so he did what any Italian man would do – he went to see his mother. As he walked into his subtly elegant flat he called out "Mamma?"

"Aaaurrreliiio" she greeted him, musically from the kitchen. "Lunch is almost ready…"

"That's alright - I just need something for my stomach…"

"I wanted to talk to you - ohh dear - are you not feeling well?" She walked out of the kitchen, and as any good Italian mother, observed her adult son as perpetually 10 years old. An elegant, dignified older woman with short silvery white hair, she approached him and pressed her palm to his forehead, and made a face.

"Mamma..."

"Sit down, you need something decent to eat."

"I'm just tired – this case..."

"That Interpol case? The Danish excavation business?"

Zen nodded "Vikings…"

Zen's mother smiled and got a little cheese, some bread and olive oil for Aurelio, she fussed as only an Italian mother could, "So you ought to call your cousin if this gets bad … I hadn't thought about this for some time... but I would think your cousin might be able to help - I imagine…"

"Cousin?" As far as Zen knew he had no cousins.

"Well it was years ago… Margaret was a friend of mine and she used to come to visit your father and I when we were still in Venice… Here, I found some old pictures when I was looking for my passport…" She stepped out of the dining room and returned with a few old photos three or four old black and white photos, one with two young women proudly posing with stylish clothes and elaborately piled up sixties styled hair. "That's Margaret Penwarren, my dear old friend - this was taken just before she got engaged – oh see, once upon a time your mother was quite glamorous." Zen smiled.

"She and I were 'thick as thieves' - that's the English phrase - and we two were fairly wild and bold in our youth - before I met your father." She smiled thinking about her husband and seeing him reflected in Zen's profile as she gently slipped her fingers over his curly hair. "So… Meg got married to Christian Petersen, he was an ambassador I think, and I found your father. We used to go to Copenhagen to see them – that was before you were born. And once Meggy had her little Pippa, she came to see us. She's not really your relation… it's an English thing - close friends turn into 'relatives."

There was another picture with a little girl probably no more than 3 or 4 years old in little white lace stockings, white mary janes shoes and a short stripped pinafore dress, her pale blond hair cut short like a little cap and a most mischievous look on her heart shaped face. She played on a hobby horse, peeking over her shoulder at a little boy with dark curly hair pointing at her with a little toy sword. In another picture, the boy was a little bit older, his arms folded over his chest trying to look like a man, and a girl no more than 5 or maybe 6, stealing a kiss on his cheek just as the photo was snapped - he looked stunned and a wee bit upset - in the manner of any little boy confronted with a little girl. His mother smiled at the grainy black and white image "Wee Pippa was as bold as her mother - I think she imagined she was your first little girl friend. Then when Margaret divorced Christian, well - they came less and less often. And then when your father died…" Aurelio's mother sighed gently and shrugged.

"Pippa… Petersen? Does she have a sister?"

"No - Meggy only had Eebett…Alsith..Elizen…?"

"Elsbeth?"

"Yes that's it – Ilzbett? I can't say it properly - I never could … its funny, but Pippa never could manage your name you know. Silly girl - she always called you Eri or Aryi…"

Zen felt much better – things were starting to make sense now.


	7. Chapter 7

E.J. and Elsbeth sat in a quiet restaurant. Izkandr had recommended this place, as he was more familiar with Rome than she was. Elegant but not terribly 'touristy', here they enjoyed a light meal on the cool terrace and they discussed recent essays and papers on their mutual interests. Izkandr realized that he'd read a number of professional papers and publication by one 'E.P. Petersen of Aarhus University and University College, London' but he had assumed that the author was a man. A little embarrassed by his assumptions, he'd admitted as much to her, to her delight.

"Well not a man - but hopefully not an idiot …" Elsbeth teased him, and E.J. blushed. He'd been impressed at the subtlety of some of the papers published by _E.P. Petersen;_ and he found it disconcerting to realize that the historian and scholar who had written "Snorri Stullurson and early Christian philosophical bias in The Prose and Poetic Eddas" and "Havamal - reconsidering concepts of time, history and philosophy amongst the Heathen Scandinavians" was the charming green eyed woman smiling at him.

"I must tell you - the fact that _you've_ read any of my essays at all is quite a thrill for me." She stated "I always look for your publications. I really do consider you to be the most revolutionary thinker on Fornaldasorgur since Tolkien's philological works on Beowulf and the Kalevala."

Izkandr felt quite complimented at her remark. He knew what she was referring to, "Have you seen his papers?" he inquired hoping to impress her.

"Yes, the last time I was at Merton College – I was giving a dissertation on Icelandic language and literature…and I had a little time to snoop about. I must have missed you there."

"Will you be at Helsinki in September?"

"Do you mean for the EAA conference? Sadly I couldn't get registered in time … You're the main attraction and so all the tickets are sold out. You really are a Rock Star!" She said with a touch of bittersweetness in her voice, she had quite wanted to go to the Conference but now that she'd seen how charming Izkandr was, she was doubly saddened.

"I'll be sad to not see you there. Have you been to Helsinki before?" Izkandr felt genuinely disappointment.

"Yes it's a wonderful city. I love the architecture, so much Jugenstil (Art Nouveau) just as in Alesund."

"So, tell me about your disagreements with my work on the Havamal…"

And so, two lonely historians spent the afternoon in the beautiful city of Rome discussing the interpretation and meaning in an obscure Icelandic poem from the Codex Regius, than no doubt not one in ten thousand of the people around them could even identify.

Meanwhile after lunch Zen and Fischer reviewed the detailed report sent by detective La Cour from Unit One. The information provided by Izkandr and Petersen combined with the forensic evidence from Trelleborg suggested what both Fischer and Petersen had suspected - that while this crime had vandalized an archeological excavation, and had led to the murder of an archeologist and her aids, it was not likely to have been an antiquities theft.

Zen agreed that the evidence pointed to possible drug trafficking and asked De Angelis to make some inquiries. He'd also contact Angelo too. There were people who owed him 'favours' after all, people who might know about a drug shipment disguised as an antiquities theft.

As they wandered through the quieter streets of Rome the two scholars continued an animated conversation on Norse mythology, philology and the current popular interpretation of the Sagas…This 'artic' topic may have seemed out of place in sunny Italy but Petersen & Izkandr were so caught up in the discussion that little else mattered. They had gradually gotten themselves back to the Forum, and oblivious to the tourists and curio booths all about, Elsbeth began to chant in old Norse while standing, her arms outstretched as Izkandr laughed and listened to her speak numerous passages from memory. Izkandr's cell phone rang, the call was identified as coming from the Questura. He frowned, apologized to Elsbeth as he interrupted her ad hoc explanation of the lines "I know I hung on that wind swept tree" from the Runatal and took the call.

"Izkandr"

"Ahh - hello Dr. Izkandr, umm - is Professor Petersen there?" it was Zen.

E.J. passed the phone to Elsbeth without a word; she looked surprised, and assumed the call was from Fischer _"Hej"_ she answered in Danish…

"Cousin Pippa?"

"Aha" she smiled, happy it was Zen "So do you remember me after all Ari?"

"Well of course I do!"

"Your mum had to remind you, didn't she?"

"A bit - look, do me a favor, cousin. Come and have dinner - Mamma is staying with me and I know she would love to see you!"

"I thought she was still in Venice?"

"No…I'll meet you at your hotel at 7:00. Ciao"

The afternoon was waning and E.J. and Elsbeth worked their way back to the hotel. Elsbeth, having had a splendid time with Izkandr, still felt a bit twisted at the news over her associate Dr. Magnusson. She needed some time to contact Else at Aardus University and check a few messages on her notebook. Then shed need to get a gift for the dinner at Zen's flat. Seeing Zen in Rome was more of a shock than she'd expected – their childhood friendship had ended abruptly and she had still somehow expected that he was still living in Venice. She'd heard that he'd gotten married some years before but she knew little about Mara…he hadn't mentioned her, he'd only mentioned that his mother wanted to have Elsbeth at dinner. Elsbeth wondered if Ari was happy – she hoped so – he'd always been a kind and beautiful boy and he'd only grown more beautiful as he became a man. She didn't doubt that he remained equally kind. He was a man both curious and charming and she looked forward to a pleasant quiet meal with family friends even though she felt certain that poor Ari must have been browbeaten by his dear mother to remembering anything about her.

Izkandr interrupted her mental chatter. "Shall I see you this evening?"

"I've been invited by friends to dinner this evening, but I would be so happy to see you afterword in the hotel lounge."

"I would like that." Izkandr didn't want to tell her how very _very_ much he would like that…

Since he'd first met her he couldn't stop thinking about her. She wasn't statuesque and she lacked the ice queen glamour that so many Scandinavian women possessed, she was small, quiet, gentle and unprepossessing and Izkandr didn't want to admit to himself how very, very much he wanted to end up in her bed.

He really had been alone far too long.

At seven pm Zen went to the hotel. Elsbeth was waiting for him in a simple moss green silk dress, elegant but practical for the summer in Italy, a pashmina and strappy little kitten heeled sandals. She had some sweet pastries (she remembered how much both Ari and his mother loved sweets) and a bottle of wine to offer for dinner. Zen was happy to see her, he just wished he could remember more about their childhood friendship.

"This is very kind of you Ari." Elsbeth said.

"Don't say it like that - you make it sound like an obligation."

"I hope your mother wasn't too insistent."

"Mamma doesn't know that you're here – this is a surprise!"

As they drove towards his flat Zen glances over at Elsbeth and vague memories of playing with a little blond girl who spoke Italian with the oddest accent came to him gradually…She was sweet but definitely not his 'type'. His ex-wife Mara was tall slim and a bit severe, Tania was dramatic slender and severe, but even as an adult there was something childlike about Elsbeth. He felt comfortable with her already – she made him feel calm.

It was a charming dinner with Ari and 'Aunty Renata', full of family catching up and childhood stories that helped Zen remember more of their remote vaugh history. Aunty was very disappointed to learn of Elsbeth's mothers death, but was happy to learn of her successful academic career. When Elsbeth, or Pippa as Renata called her (always insisted on using her middle name) admitted to her unhappy divorce from Karl Meirs, Zen winced as his mother mentioned how unhappy she was over Mara and Aurelio's separation. "It's a difficult thing to face up to…" Elsbeth said awkwardly… She noticed the cruise magazines in a basket by a comfy chair near some knitting… "Aunty, are you planning a trip?" Mother Zen smiled softly "I was thinking about it…" She looked at the brochures, "Yes, well if you take this Baltic tour you must come and visit me! I can show you all about Copenhagen- in fact I insist! You can fly and stay in my flat before the trip." Tell me which cruise you choose to take, but let me talk to the cruise people for you… Do promise me Aunty! Such cruises are wonderful adventures you know."

Renata smiled at the possibility of a glamorous cruise.

After dinner Zen escorted Elsbeth back to the hotel, "I don't think Mamma is really going on a cruise …"

"You ought to encourage her - it would be good for her. I can manage everything and you'll have some time alone." She winked. "You could do with a little privacy…yes? Perhaps you'd like to entertain that dark haired beauty at the Questura, maybe?"

Zen laughed out loud "Dear girl, did your husband divorce you because you were too clever for him?"

Elsbeth's face fell. "No he cheated on me and told me it was my fault – because I was ugly and pathetic."

His attempt at wit had fallen flat and Zen felt awful. He also felt a rush of contempt and anger. "You do know that your ex-husband is clearly certifiable - you do understand that. _**You do understand that…**_ "

There was a painful silence. Zen's car pulled up in front of the hotel, and he tried to take her hand only to see her look at him, her eyes full of unshed tears. He felt stunned. "I must go, please call me about whether the Questura needs anything more... – Adio Aurelio." She dashed embarrassed toward the glass front doors of the hotel. Zen sat watching her go and then pounded his head twice against the steering wheel. Sometimes he felt so hopeless… He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Angelo. "I need to talk to you about a personal favor… about some of your boys sending a very special message to someone called Karl Meirs…"

…

Elsbeth went into the ladies room just inside the hotel and wiped away the tears that had started to fall. It had been a lovely evening with charming family friends - so why did her emotions have to get out of control. Maybe because talking about her failed marriage still hurt, because she was sad that Ari was going through a similar situation…Because she was lonely and sad and she felt that Ari had been offering her shallow empty platitudes…And now her childhood friend would think her unhinged.

She took some deep breaths and splashed a little water on her face, and repeated her little mantra; that she was a successful scholar, she was clever, kind, caring and _not that unattractive_ and that someday someone would see that. She remembered Izkandr and checked her make up. Maybe he was still there…

He **was** there and she was happy to see him. "Observe the passage before passing through." she heard him say as she walked over to him. She laughed quietly to him. "The Havamal. "

"Did you have a nice dinner?" Izkandr asked. He was happy that she'd joined him, he'd been starting to get rather melancholy with a twinge of jealousy. Who had she gone to dinner with… was it serious?

Elsbeth didn't drink, but asked the bartender for a brandy – they had no mead.

They chatted for some time about life love and various experiences. Elsbeth reminded herself to keep the conversation light and not to sob or burst into lonely tears. No one would be attracted to someone forever crying. They chatted and hinted at things in the gentle fragile way that lonely people often do … after a while things became a bit more personal.

Elsbeth smiled at him, "You really are quite beautiful, EJ. I can't believe that you haven't got a collection of 'teacher's pets' dogging your every step…Although I'd never question your professionalism."

"No one's ever called me beautiful – don't you think you ought to be talking about your tall countryman… or Zen?" Izkandr wondered. He hoped that she meant what she'd said and dreaded that she was just teasing him.

"Fischer? Ari?" she answered and took another sip and laughed "No – well, Ari is an old family friend. And Allan…" Elsbeth shrugged her shoulders.

Izkandr wanted her madly – he'd wanted her since he'd first seen her and now having spent time with her - he found her intelligence and her wit made her even more attractive to him.

"I wish I had better luck romantically… My ex-husband cheated on me and told me so many lies over and over again. While it may seem silly these days - to me honour is sacred – 'Loyaulte me lie.' Loyalty binds me… I loved and trusted him too much and it scarred my heart to the core." Elsbeth's eyes were luminous in the candlelight. "Karl and his cruelty still haunt me and I need to put his ghost to rest."

"Don't despair about finding love" Izkandr muttered nervously, feeling like a shy schoolboy "it will come…"

"When?" she whispered.

A crown of hotel guests stumbled in and crowded about the bar, noisy and chatty - and for a few seconds these two lonely people were lost in a buss of liquor enhanced chaos.

Once Izkandr had worked up the nerve to answer her - she'd gone. He looked around for her but he couldn't see her anywhere. Again he thought as he had earlier, when they'd first met, about all the good people who deserved love and were denied it and about the shallow heartless ones who got whatever they wanted. He ached inside.

Izkandr gestured to the bartender but he simply answered that the Danish lady had settled all the debts. He held up a receipt with the cost of his drinks her partially drunk brandy and her signature. He surreptitiously spied her room number.

Not long thereafter, a very nervous E.J. knocked on the door of Room 307 b, her door – it was late but he guessed she wasn't asleep. A voice called first in Danish then in Italian "just one moment please…" then the door opened a crack and Elsbeth peeked out…"E.J.?"

"I need to talk to you…" Izkander was suddenly terrified that Elsbeth wasn't alone in her hotel room.

"Please – you just startled me…Just a moment…" Elsbeth looked down as she tried nervously to button up the long silk men's shirt that she used as a robe, and opened the door more fully. "No… I was just getting ready for bed, E .J."

Izkandr starred at her and his mouth went dry…Her hair was tousled, her eyes soft, and she was wearing nothing but a large black silk shirt which in her rush she'd misbuttoned part of the way. The blood was rushing in his ears and Izkandr realized that she could not possibly have looked more erotic to him at that moment even if she'd willfully been trying to seduce him.

Elsbeth has so desperately wanted Izkandr here, but she'd persuaded herself that he wasn't interested in her …Her desire for him was unrequited – and this was yet another rejection that she needed to come to terms with. Oh god now he was here - but she felt certain that he wasn't there to make love to her as she wanted him to…as she'd fantasized he would… She felt humiliated and was terrified that she was going to burst into tears at any moment, and whatever little professional respect he might have for her would fall apart once he saw her as a pathetically hopeless lonely weeping woman. She had to try to be brave or at least not let herself emotionally collapse until he was gone.

"Dear E.J…What …what can I do for you?"

Izkandr was a realist. He knew he wasn't as handsome or as charming as some, but he was willing to do whatever he could to enchant her.

_Please god, he thought to himself in an instant, oh god that I don't believe in - let me try to please this woman. _

He cupped his hands to her face, gently stroking her cheeks and he tilted his head slightly and kissed her gently at first, but as she responded immediately to him – his kiss grew more passionate. He felt himself trembling with his own desire - oh god he wanted her and was so desperate to make her want him. She was beautiful in his eyes and so smart - and to E.J. intelligence was truly the most erotic attribute of all. Elsbeth looked up at Izkandr, her eyes were full of hunger and loneliness. "Dear E.J." she spoke so quietly.

The door opened, and then closed behind E.J.


	8. Chapter 8

_**A note: Generally speaking in modern Denmark - the ladies set the dating rules! **_

Mixed Doubles in Rome

Once Zen left the office that afternoon to meet Petersen, Fischer remained working on the case, checking La Cour's report and sending updated information that they'd collected to Ingrid and Unit One. From Gaby he learned that there had been four academic assistants assigned to Dr. Magnusson on this excavation and while two had been killed and one student worker left in a coma, the remaining assistant had 'disappeared'. Both Fischer and La Cour had some ideas about what this 'disappearance' might mean. Fischer felt that Zen would agree with his theories.

As Fischer considered the options, Tania walked in to the conference room to remind him of the time. He glanced up at her. "Tania, I'd like to ask for your help…" Tania glanced at him, curious to know what he wanted. "I thought about what you said about my - my clothes… Can you tell me the right shops to go to?" She turned, and leaning against the door jamb, looked Fischer up and down, the hint of a gentle smile shadowing her lips. She licked the tip of her pen as she considered him. "So you want some advice?"

Allan had finally realized that in order to get the FBI training that his Danish superiors had discussed and that Petersen had mentioned, he'd need to start looking the part – all the comments that La Cour, IP and ever Gaby had made about his clothes in the past were finally beginning to get to him. He shrugged his shoulders - not certain how to explain this to her. Tania laughed. "Buy me dinner and I'll help you - Mr. _Fizchur."_

After work Tania took him to the Via Condotti, and they walked passed various upscale boutique shops towards a plain storefront. If Tania hadn't been with him Allan would never have noticed it, but Tania knew the area well. She did all the talking, advising Allan on colors and styles and dictating terms to the clerk who brought out the suits for Fischer to try. Soon, Allan had agreed to two suits one silk and linen grey pinstripe suit and one - darker and more formal, as well as a few new shirts, one was pewter, one pale grey and two in white. The anthracite colored suit that Tania insisted he take still needed to be tailored to fit more comfortably across his shoulders but the pinstripe was ready. Allan agreed to wear it and the pale silver grey shirt out of the shop. His 'rags' (as she described them) were packed in the shopping bag, the tailoring would be finished on the other suit in three days, and they would contact him at the hotel.

Allan felt surprisingly comfortable in the suit - it wasn't as restrictive as he'd imagined it might feel, and as they walked towards a restaurant that Tania had suggested - Allan noticed the reaction that his new look had on the faces of the people around - and especially on Tania. She'd started to cling to his arm as they strolled, and Fischer saw no reason to stop her. At the restaurant they enjoyed antipasto and plenty of wine that Tania ordered – then the meal. Fischer longed for a good Carlsberg, but he said nothing. Tania was enjoying herself in the company of this handsome foreigner and she let the wine go to her head. Fischer had been attractive to her before, but now he was positively magnetic. Tania found herself reveling in the way his honey colored eyes seem to bore directly into her, and she was soon as tipsy and giddy as a teenager. After dinner Tania eagerly suggested that she make him some espresso and show him her flat. Fischer was happy to follow her lead in this.

She welcomed him to her place - the very apartment that Zen had helped to secure for her, and where they had spent many passionate nights as she'd started the divorce proceedings against Luca, but Tania didn't want to think about that at the moment. Now Luca was dead, and she was free to be with Zen. She felt certain that she loved Zen. Or maybe she _had_ felt certain that she loved Zen - but then why did she suddenly find herself so drawn to Fischer? Fischer smiled at her as she carefully enunciated that he should get comfortable while she started to prepare the espresso. Tania hurried to the kitchen – then dashed into the bedroom and quickly slipped out of her snug skirt and blouse. She thought for a moment of seducing Fischer in her lacey silk panties but decided instead to take off everything. Wrapped in a semi-transparent kimono, she hurried back through the kitchen and peeked at Fischer from the edge of the door. He'd reclined on her couch, relaxing with a cigarette, and glanced up to see Tania. Her ample breasts were falling out of the lacy robe, and the frothy shift was quickly sliding off her shoulders. Leaning against the door jam, giggling seductively, she lisped at Fischer "I - I guess I'm out of coffee…"

….…..

Izkandr stirred in his sleep as memories of the night before gradually came back to him. He felt Elsbeth in his arms and even before fully awake, his body began to respond to her. They'd made love twice that night and even now he was growing hard as he felt her gently stretch on the bed next to him. They had fallen asleep spooned together and he held her, her back against his chest. He caressed her breasts, and gently breathed half kisses against her neck, hoping to arouse her as she still dozed. She murmured, stretched and her buttocks moved against his erection as he grew more passionate. "E.J. my love…" she sighed, and rolling over - she kissed him. Their lovemaking was sweet and lazy now- just as earlier it had been desperate and hungry, then passionate throughout the night. He moaned as she stroked his cock and Elsbeth licked the side of his neck from the top of his shoulder to the base of his ear – she noticed how he'd enjoyed that sensation earlier. Izkandr fondled her buttocks and pulled her towards him. She hungrily drew him inside her. E.J whispered in her ear how tight and hot she felt and she wrapped her legs around his hips as snuggly as she could. She whispered to him in a mix of English and Danish as she grew more and more excited of how wonderful he felt inside her, how great a lover he was, and how much she wanted him. He thrust eagerly inside her again and again until her climax drew her body tight against his erection and brought him to his own climax as he cried out in satisfaction.

…

Zen felt awful after seeing Elsbeth to her hotel. He hated the fact that she was still so wounded by her divorce – and he found it troubling that they had both suffered the same fate at the hands of their mutual spouses. He knew just what she was going through, self-doubt and personal recrimination, although they both had been honest in their relationships he imagined that they had both questioned what they'd done for this to happen…_was the failure of their marriages and the unfaithfulness of their partners - somehow their fault? _

Once he was off the phone with Angelo, he dialed Tania's cell number. She didn't answer. He thought of the evening before when he's taken her out for a romantic dinner. Even though they had both been happy to see each other again there was an awkward distance at that meal. He attributed it to the fact that they had been apart for some time. Zen didn't simply assume that everything could automatically return to their previous passionate and tempestuous relationship, in fact he didn't want it to go back to that condition. He wanted them to become a couple - not just two people who slept together and often quarreled and argued. Sure - sex was great, but he needed more than just sex. He might even have tolerated Mara's infidelities and abuses if all he cared about was _copulation_. Tania was great in bed - its true - but was that all there was between them?

He thought about Tania and decided to just stop by her place…Maybe some spontaneous romantic gesture could inspire their relationship… He called her again – still nothing. Had she forgotten to recharge her cell - or was she just not answering his calls?


	9. Chapter 9

Night and Morning

Zen thought about Tania and decided to just stop by her place…Maybe some spontaneous romantic gesture could inspire their relationship… He called her again – still nothing. Had she forgotten to recharge her cell - or was she just not answering his calls?

He stopped at a boutique near the hotel catering to tourists and selected a large bouquet two dozen red and white roses. As the clerk wrapped the bundle he checked his phone messages - nothing from Tania - and an email from Fischer about some updated information from the Trelleborg site.

As he got closer to Tania's place his emotions were is a muddle. Part of him dreaded seeing her and part of him thrilled at the passionate greeting that he so hoped for… but as he approached his anxiety started to overwhelm his sense of enthusiasm, and as he parked he noticing the light in her window was extinguished. He stood for some time outside the building trying her cellular, until his gut reaction persuaded him to go back to his apartment. He pulled two red and two white roses from the bouquet and put them up against the foyer door. One of thorns cut his thumb and Zen slipped his thumb into him mouth, and felt like a love struck teenager as he looked up at her window –then he turned and went back to his car. Once he got back to his place his mother was still awake and happy about seeing 'Cousin Pippa' again. She was eager to chat and he surprised his mother with the rest of the roses.

Renata smiled at her son and started to rearrange some of the flowers as he sipped a café correcto.

"She looked so sweet, don't you think? She seems happy in her work…"

"Yes, I suppose…"

"I worry about her …and you …you two both deserve to be happy – what's happened to you and Mara, and Pippa and her ex - well it isn't fair. Did you get these for your…lady friend – ummm- Tania - at the Questura?" She pointed to the flowers – Aurelio was a good son, but twenty red and white roses were not what most good Italian boys got for their mothers…

"I stopped by her place but she wasn't in…"

"Hmm… I don't want you to be lonely anymore … you two both deserve to be with good loving people - people who will respect you…both…" She eyed him as she made one ornate bouquet filling a large vase and arraigned the rest of the red and white roses into two smaller vases.

"I know Mamma… I'm fine."

"You're very good to your poor mother."

Zen kissed his mother gently and put his cup in the sink –"I'm off to bed."

…

Her ample breasts were falling out of the lacy robe, and the frothy shift was quickly sliding off her shoulders. Leaning against the door jam, giggling seductively, she lisped at Fischer "I - I guess I'm out of coffee…"

Fischer rolled over from his supine position on the couch and eyed the almost naked and very tipsy Tania. She pranced towards him, literally falling out of the silken robe that clung to her elbows as she approached him. She pulled him off the couch and started to aggressively tug at his new clothes. Luckily he'd put out his cigarette. She paused and suddenly looked nervous at the sound of a car door opening outside in the street – and clumsily pulled the light switch on the nearby lamp. Seeing her face grow tense with surprise and guilt for a moment before the light went out, Fischer knew what she was up now and he was personally quite happy that he had condoms in his wallet. It looked as if Tania was quite a schemer. Fischer might have found her attractive, but he wasn't so blind as to not make some obvious connections. He could see that there was no way that she could afford this place on just her administrative support staff wages – so someone else was helping to foot the bill, he guessed. Maybe she had another job … moonlighted for 'favours'… Could it be that Zen was supporting a woman who felt free to take whatever she wanted from any man she met? Was Zen that daft? He doubted it…the Italian was certainly sharp…but this Tania - well she was a real piece of work. Better to be safe than sorry.

….

Elsbeth stirred quietly and slipped EJ's arm gently from around her hip. They had made love multiple times throughout the night and they'd both dozed, sated from their early morning pleasure. She glanced over her shoulder at EJ and saw that his eyes were closed and his breathing was deep and relaxed. Elsbeth smiled and scurried to the wc. Once relieved, she brushed her teeth and splashed a wee bit of water on her face, then skipped out to the kitchenette. She filled and turned on the hot water heater, got two clean mugs, a tea pot and some lapsang souchong ready. She picked up the black silk shirt and slipped it on. Once the water boiled she poured it into the pot and soon the tea was brewing nicely. She didn't know if EJ wanted milk or sweeteners, so she looked to make certain there was at least some sugar available …They'd have to manage without milk but at least it was souchong and the smoky smell was one of her favourite fragrances from her earliest childhood – like the smell of rain, heavy wet leaves, and the subtle cool dry scent of very old dry heavy parchment in a vault. It took little to make her happy. She slipped over to the side of the bed where he slept and seeing him start to stretch, she whispered "Kettle's on." as she kissed his cheek.

….

Zen slept well and after a quick wash up he got dressed. His mother was up and had coffee for him. "Will you see Pippa at the Questura today?" she asked…

"I suppose so, but she's not under arrest." He smiled cheekily as his mother grimaced at him.

"Please get me her telephone number …" she asked. He kissed his mother's cheek and gave her a crooked smirk. "Oh take these flowers to work – maybe the red roses will be nice for Tania." Renata added.

Zen thought for a split second that he couldn't imagine why Tania would want anything at all from _him_ but he pushed the passing thought away as he started out the door.

...

Fischer had excused himself from Tania's bed after she fell asleep, and worked his way back to his hotel in the middle of the night. Allan hung up his new suit and went to bed – he found himself comfortable in his hotel bed and slept deeply. When he woke he checked the weather and noted that it looked like rain. Rather than wear his new suit he opted for a dark blue gray pull over and some good black slacks he'd brought from home. Fischer heard the distant roll of thunder and smiled - Storm weather.

Tania slept heavily and awoke with a heavy head and a bad headache, she'd drunk far too much the night before and Fischer wasn't in bed as she expected. She felt both disappointed and mildly relieved at his absence as she struggled to swallow some aspirin and soda water. After a warm shower she looked out her simple black sleeveless dress that clung to her curves, high heels and a neat jacket. She was a little late to work as she stopped for an espresso but she didn't worry very much about it.

Once she got into the office Tania realized it was later than she'd expected - both Zen and Fischer were busy in the conference room – Tania went to her desk and noticed a small bouquet of red and white roses on her desk. Tania smiled. A gift from Fischer she imagined. Tania pulled out her compact and checked her lipstick.


	10. Chapter 10

Storms

Once she got into the office Tania realized it was later than she'd expected - both Zen and Fischer were busy in the conference room – Tania went to her desk and noticed a small bouquet of red and white roses on her desk. She smiled -a gift from Fischer she imagined as she pulled out her compact and checked her lipstick.

Fischer explained the theory that he and La Cour had come up with, and that Petersen had inadvertently and unexpectedly touched on. This was looking like no antiquities theft or archeological vandelization. The archeological excavation was real, and it had been used as a distraction for a local drug trafficking ring. It had made a perfect cover initially - and as one of the archeological assistants might have been in on the scam - it was used by the dealers to act as a distraction. The fourth archeological assistant was the key - Gaby was looking for the whereabouts of the remaining student assistant - one Harald Lie Oskar - and Zen was beginning to see the logic of the argument.

What was troubling was the violence of the crime. The forensics reports pointed to traces of heroin stored in blocks of tightly wrapped plastics in a small hillock not far from the excavation. What would have been initially seen as a perfect cover for the dealers might have started to become a real threat once the excavation continued.

Zen was intrigued but he had some doubts – this was all still theoretical. Until they had more information about the excavation – or more evidence about this Oskar person – he wasn't sure about this premise – it was possible but not the only option.

"I want to just consider the possibility that that this might be an antiquities theft…"Zen interrupted the tall Danish detective. His amber gold eyes flashed at Aurelio, as Allan considered that notion pointless. Zen raised a hand gently – "Just consider it – if you're right then the last thing that the dealers will expect is that we've figured that point out. Anyway - we still have the academics – let's use them while we can."

Fischer looked at him both confused and intrigued. He thought very little of that fellow Izkandr. Since a particularly difficult kidnapping case about eight months prior he had developed a deep dislike for pompous Englishmen like this one - he knew it was irrational but he acknowledged it. Petersen - well she was Danish and a friend of Ingrid so he trusted her a bit more.

"Use?" The Danes voice was deep and raspy…

Aurelio stood and paced in front of the table. He paused, having collected his thoughts - and affected his coolest driest Venetian stare - full of skepticism and detachment. "I think that we should make further inquiries of them both - but separately. You take Izkander – I want to talk to Pip ummm - _**to Professor Petersen**_.

"You don't trust them?"

"I never said that…" Zen smirked and jammed his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the wall.

Fischer watched Zen and heard thunder fill the room. From outside the Questura a sudden cloudburst drove all the sun worshiping Romans into a state of utter confusion. Allan breathed in the rich heady smell of rain and felt all the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

This looked to be promising.

…..

Esbeth poured some tea into one of the mugs and turned towards the sleepy, prone E.J stretching in bed. She'd thought about a few 'hard truths' as she'd made the tea. She was a lonely, insecure and rather needy person - she knew it and she wanted to move beyond it. The sex had been great - but she knew her inclination was to cling to any affection that Izkandr might offer her – inevitably turning any light embrace into a death grip. She dreaded her neediness and she knew it would drive him away - it had driven away all the others. It wasn't healthy - she knew that but it was hard to second guess herself … it was all she knew.

Last night had been wonderful - a passionate night and maybe it should be _just that._

No commitments …not yet.

E.J started to stir and gradually his fuzzy brain began to grasp where he was. He felt wonderfully sated and cozy. "Good morning" he yawned behind his fist as he watched Elsbeth curl up facing him on the other side of the bed. She passed him a cup of tea and smiled at him as she sipped from her own … "A very good morning indeed." He added - hoping he sounded seductive and sophisticated. She laughed as quietly as she could and winked at him - he was awfully sweet. "You were wonderful" she responded "thank you."

"So - what are you up to today?" Izkandr felt more than a wee bit nervous - he rarely had much luck with the ladies and he didn't know what to do at this point. For all his education and the acclaim and respect of his colleagues, he felt about 13 years old sitting there trying to chat with the woman he'd made love to the night before.

"I suppose we'll need to hear from the Questura – I doubt they'll need us." Elsbeth commented without much concern, "More tea?"

As if on cue, the phone in her suite began to ring.

….

Zen glanced out a small window in the conference room at the sudden stormburst. He was used to rain – well, he was from Venice - but it always surprised him how agitated Romans got by such a storm. They seemed quite paralyzed by it - although heavy storms were common enough.

Allan had slipped out of the room as he fancied some coffee. Tania hadn't been in when he'd arrived that morning and he rather hoped he could avoid her that day if possible. Allan wasn't certain how to broach the topic of Tania with Aurelio – he still didn't really know Zen that well - but he respected him. If those two were in a relationship it wasn't a good one. If they were just dating casually - which Allen strongly doubted – Tania's casual sexuality still left Allan feeling odd - maybe because it reminded him of his own past behavior and his awkward divorce. Looking for a kitchen or a coffee room, Allan inadvertently ran into Tania – and he tried hard not to wince as she approached him.

Tania saw Allan's tension as a sign of his attempts to control his passion for her …She glanced about and not seeing Fabri, De Angeli or Zen in the vicinity - she slid her arms around Fischer's neck … "Thank you Mr. Fizchur for the lovely flowers - I missed you this morning…" she purred provocatively in his ear. Allan did his best to extricate himself from her.

"Tania - ehh – I was just looking for some coffee… err… what flowers?"

"Those lovely roses – Some people say that you northern types have no sense of romance - but they're clearly wrong. You're a quite a lover – I was impressed. Daaaarrrrlling…" she trilled as she leaned back slightly, trying to pull him closer to her. Fischer gently but firmly slipped Tania's arms from around his neck and repeated. "Look - I'm sorry but I don't know anything about roses…"

While Tania had been oblivious in her affectionate rapture over Fischer, Zen had stepped into the hall. He'd imagined that Fischer was looking for some coffee and thought to show him the way. But suddenly he felt he'd walked in on a scene from the Commedia dell'Arte. Tania – once _his_ Tania - was clinging rather farcically to the very uncomfortable looking Fischer and purring on about lovemaking. Some distant, remote part of Zen found this display to be pathetically amusing, if a bit sordid. He stood for a moment feeling a shocking sense of profound detachment.

"Ms. Moretti would you be so kind as to contact the front desk at the Hotel Stella - I need to speak to Professor Elsbeth Petersen, please put the call through to the conference room… also could you possibly get some coffee for us?"

Tania stood stunned and unmoving as if Zen had somehow frozen her in place with his words. Her mind and her pulse however were racing…

"Thank you." Zen's clipped response was more cutting than any sharp, bitter or accusatory retort could possibly be. He turned immediately and returned to the conference room. …...


	11. Chapter 11

Set Fire to the Rain

(Inspired by the lovely song by Adele)

"_Ms. Moretti would you be so kind as to contact the front desk at the Hotel Stella - I need to speak to Professor Elsbeth Petersen, please put the call through to the conference room… also could you possibly get some coffee for us?" _

_Tania stood stunned and unmoving as if Zen had somehow frozen her in place with his words. Her mind and her pulse however were racing… _

"_Thank you." Zen's clipped response was more cutting than any sharp, bitter or accusatory retort could possibly be. He turned immediately and returned to the conference room. _

Zen's face was drawn and he drew a deep shuddering breath. All the memories of his brief but intense relationship with Tania crowed his thoughts - the long lunches Tania had taken with Fabri, her painful flirtations with other detectives early in their affair - the meetings with that 'friend of the family 'who knew a lawyer' at the bar - kissing her 'friend' passionately while Zen watched… Had there ever been any love for him in her - or was it all just manipulation and sex? He sighed and felt himself falling into his old pattern of focusing only on the present and suppressing any painful memories. It had begun as a reaction to his father's death when he was nine, and he knew it wasn't the healthiest habit - but it kept him focused. He shuffled the papers on the table then decided to get a smoke. Zen had been sincerely trying to stop smoking but he needed some nicotine now. He was about to step out - then he heard the phone in the conference room began to ring.

…...

Elsbeth heard the phone ring in her hotel room as if on cue. She grimaced at EJ and slipped over to answer the buzzing. "Pronto"

Buon Giorno …Ahhh… I am calling for - for Elzvet Petterseeh?" the person on the other end was not terribly fluent in English - but was trying hard - and Elsbeth has to respect her. She also wondered if the lady on the line had a cold. Her voice seemed thick over the phone. "Please wait…"

Then a few clicks and Aurelio picked up "Pippa?"

Elsbeth smiled to herself, although she saw that EJ was looking unhappy at the promise of more work with the Police - she shrugged at him. "Good morning cousin - thank you and your mother again for a lovely dinner - how are you?"

"I'm afraid that I need to ask you back at the Questura this morning."

"Certainly, I can be there in an hour… I …I slept in." Elsbeth started to blush and glanced at EJ. "Superintendent, is there anything that you need me to bring?"

"I just need to see you." Zen found himself sighing without realizing it …This case was starting to get to him.

"Take care Ari - I'll be there soon."

Elsbeth felt concerned by Zen's tone – she started wondering if he was alright. Aurelio was so kind and gentle - he deserved happiness. It hurt her to think of him in pain, her empathy was tinged with some unexpectedly intense emotion that she wasn't certain she quite understood.

Elsbeth turned to EJ. "It seems that I have to go back to the Questura – they probably need some information from Dr. Magnusson's notes. I doubt it'll take very long - I'll miss you."

EJ smiled as he started to collect his clothes, "Maybe there's a message on my cellphone too – Ehh I would like to see if maybe we could have lunch later?" He scribbled his number on a notepad. "Call me please." EJ leaned close to Elsbeth, "Thank you darling – you're magnificent." He kissed her - she tasted of mint and he savored her breath. She smiled and responded to his words without thinking in Danish "Tusind tak for din venlighed" (a thousand thanks for your kindness.)

"Selv tak." (You're welcome) He answered her. Elsbeth giggled slightly at his accent.

"Call me? Ok?" He pantomimed as he opened the door – she nodded and blew him a kiss. She starred at the door as it closed and felt a strange sensation as she turned towards the bathroom. A brief shower refreshed her and as she toweled off Elsbeth heard the sound of thunder from outside her window. Heavy rain streaked the windows and pattered on the cobblestones. Storm weather!

Dry and clean, she put on a moss colored silk knit pullover with a zipper, simple black jeans over short boots and peridot and amber earrings. She combed her hair, brushed her teeth again and collected her notebook and leather satchel. In a dark green rain coat she dashed out into the empty courtyard. Was the entire city empty? Were the citizens of Rome all made of sugar that they avoided rain so completely? Just outside the Questura she splashed through a few puddles and scurried up the steps. Inside the doors she saw a dramatic dark haired beauty leaning against Fabri, gazing tragically into his eyes and muttering "Such cruelty…"

"Salve" she interrupted them quietly.

Fabri glanced at her, but he was more involved with the troubled lady who Elsbeth had previously thought was Zen's lover Tania. The dark haired woman turned and spoke - her voice thick with congestion or emotion "You're here for the Superintendent?" Elsbeth nodded. Tania dabbed at her eye quite dramatically and guided her down the hallway toward the conference room.

Elsbeth wondered if Zen and Tania had had some disagreement and that had been the cause of his melancholy tone in their phone chat. If true, it would have been a shame - but then again maybe Tania simply had developed a cold in this unexpectedly delightful brisk weather. Tania offered her a cappuccino before Elsbeth went into the room, and then she flamboyantly swept away in search of more masculine emotional consolation.

She tapped on the door and heard Aurelio clear his throat. He opened the door for her and drew her in. Elsbeth glanced up at him and set her cup on the table.

"Good morning Ari."

Zen reached over and hugged Elsbeth. It was a strange reaction, he hadn't intended it as familial or passionate or even just chummy - he just knew that he desperately needed some sort of physical contact with someone kind and gentle who wouldn't turn on him or betray him or wound him. Elsbeth had not expected this but she acted entirely on instinct – she simply held him close, her heart full of concern at his emotional state. Zen was surprised at how small she was. He could easily rest his chin on the top of her head. After a moment he lessened his grip and she looked up at him He wanted to laugh, she seemed so very petite - like a sweet little elf or a brownie from the stories he half remembered her mother reading to them from England. "You never grew… you're like a Cornish pixie… it that the word?" he laughed.

She laughed at him gently "In Cornwall we call them Piskies and in Denmark they're Alva or Tompte or Landvettr - dear Ari –what's up? I've contacted Else at the University about Dr. Magnusson's papers... Do you want me to translate or explain the notes to you?"

Aurelio just gazed down at her and kept on smiling. He was starting to remember their childhood together, games of climbing and exploring his neighborhood in Venice and of playing at knights and princesses - she had a hobby horse and he would play with a stick and sometimes a toy sword. They would pretend to joust with little poles or to chase after other imaginary characters with various toys. It was all coming back to him and he just wanted to enjoy this and forget about all his grief over his past failures, his heartbreaks over Mara, over Ellen and Tania…He wanted to be young again and he felt so _old_ now.

After a few moments of this sort of daydreaming he noticed her cup. "Did you get that from Tania ? Where is the coffee?"

"She gave it to me as I came in - I think the pot is in the hall."

"Look - have you eaten yet?"

"No."

"Thank god – let's go get something…"

Fischer walked in "Hej" he greeted Elsbeth and then turned to Zen "I called him - he'll be here after he has tea with his breakfast." Fischer made a face and sat down.


	12. Chapter 12

**Green Ice, Mermaids and Espresso**

Fischer walked in "_Hej_" he greeted Elsbeth and then turned to Zen "I called him - he'll be here after he has tea with his breakfast." Fischer made a face and sat down. He opted to not say anything else - although he noticed that Zen was holding Petersen in his arms…perhaps just a little too close for it to **not**look provocative. Luckily, there was no one else in there to see or say anything. In the hallway, he's seen Tania giving him the evil eye as she darted off. She was a real piece of work - Fischer thought.

Hearing thunder, Petersen glanced at Fischer and remarked _"We brought the weather with us it seems."_

"_You did it then,"_ he laughed _"It was sunny when I got here." _

"What are you two talking about?" Zen countered, curious.

Petersen smiled "Just the weather. Now about Karen's report… "

Zen glanced at Fischer and interrupted her – "We'll be back in a bit. Fischer – you're in charge. Let me just get my coat…" Aurelio squeezed Elsbeth's shoulders and slipped out of the room. She watched the door close and spoke quietly to Allen _"What's troubling him?" _

"_I think it's his love life… but don't ask me. How long have you known him?"_

"_I used to spend time in Venice with his family when I was a child. We loved to play when we were tiny."_

"_I bet."_

She didn't rise to the bait. She simply asked if he knew if Gaby had received the records from the University –but before Fischer responded Zen returned in his coat with his car keys in one hand and a bouquet of white roses in the other. Elsbeth smiled, quietly wondering who the flowers were for. Someone lucky she thought - white roses were her favourites - they had an almost superstitious appeal for her.

"_Skid… (sh#t_)" Fischer muttered under his breath… "So the flowers were from you… eh?" Zen said nothing - but he raised one elegant eyebrow and shot a dark look at Fischer. The silence was full of implications. Elsbeth wondered what Fischer was on about.

Without another word Zen guided Elsbeth out into the hall – and she ventured a quick quiet comment – gesturing at the flowers "Are those for your fidanzata? (girlfriend)" pronouncing the z as 'tz' like a Venetian – and Zen, surprised - turned to stare at her. Elsbeth just looked up at him - unaware of the implications of her remark. Tania turned a corner carrying a pile of documents, and saw the two of them standing directly in her way. It was too late to avoid a confrontation. Zen was aware of Tania standing there - but his eyes never moved from Elsbeth's face. "Ms. Moretti - these lovely roses are for Professor Petersen, I expect you to take good care of them as we'll be out for a while. Do you understand?" Only now did he look at Tania and she visibly withered under his icy green gaze.

As they approached the door, Elsbeth felt quite confused. "My dear – what's going on?" she half whispered to him.

"Just trust me." he answered.

They swept out into the rain, two people who - in all of Rome it seemed were apparently not afraid of the coming storm.

Tania watched Zen and his tiny little foreign freak walk out the door – he'd humiliated her. She'd told Aurelio not to be so possessive but now that damned 'Fizchur' had exposed her and ruined everything. Well, she couldn't touch him but she'd have Zen back just where she wanted him … she just needed some time.

…..

Ensconced in Zen's car, Petersen turned to look at him. He sighed and leaned back in the driver's seat. "I just needed to get away - we can go over everything - about the report - about Dr. Magnussen … just… just - not here…"

She nodded quietly.

Elsbeth didn't really notice very much about the restaurant that Ari took her to. He ordered coffee and some sparkling water and antipasto. As they waited she watched him gradually unwind. Taking his hand in hers - she said quietly "Talk to me cousin, please."

"Do you remember when we were little?" Zen added, not wanting to focus on anything painful just yet.

"Yes I do …But do you remember? Silly - I remember wandering about your neighborhood - getting so lost when I was tiny. With my poor Italian I ought to have been more afraid but I wasn't frightened at all - children only learn fear from adults - and of course I knew that you would find me. Do you remember one time - I think I was about four or so, we were looking for some sweets I think - or – was it Ali Baba's magical cavern? Yes! You thought that there was a way into a magical treasure house and that the local grocer was really Ali Baba - he was your neighbor - but he didn't look like the sketch in the picture book I had - so I didn't believe you…"

Aurelio interrupted her, the memories all flowing back to him "I told you that the djinn had disguised him so he would look like the local grocer and that we had to get three magical items to break the spell."

"Ummmm - A golden fish, a little silver star – what was the other thing that we needed?"

Zen felt a great tightness in his chest grow and then relax - and he started to laugh. "We had to find a mermaid."

They both started laughing and spoke in unison - "Yes – we would had to go back to Copenhagen to find the mermaid!"

…..

Back at the Questura, Izkandr had arrived and was waiting to meet with Fischer – he kept an eye out for Petersen, but he didn't see her and no one seemed willing to tell him anything. He was starting to feel uncomfortable and a bit irritated by all this. He noticed the dark haired administrative assistant, in her snug black dress as she walked over to his seat in the empty conference room - leaned low so that her cleavage was right at his eye level. She held a cup of steamy espresso provocatively close to her décolletage "It's hot and you know that you want it. Take it." she purred breathily at him.


	13. Chapter 13

They both started laughing and spoke in unison - "Yes – we would had to go back to Copenhagen to find the mermaid!"

...

Back at the Questura, Izkandr had arrived and was waiting to meet with Fischer – he kept an eye out for Petersen, but he didn't see her and no one seemed willing to tell him anything. He was starting to feel uncomfortable and a bit irritated by all this. He noticed the dark haired administrative assistant in her snug black dress, as she walked over to his seat in the empty conference room, leaned low so that her cleavage was right at his eye level. She held a cup of steamy espresso provocatively close to her décolletage "It's hot and you know that you want it. Take it." she purred breathily at him.

"I beg your pardon?" Izkandr responded. Fischer walked into the hall from the conference room and again wished he was back in Copenhagen with the Unit One team "Thank you Tania" he said interrupting their little conversation.

"Now - Dr. Izkandr I have a few questions to ask you…this way." The tall Dane escorted Dr. Izkandr into a private room and closed the door.

"Is Professor Petersen here?" Edward asked.

"Neh." Fischer answered indifferently –"Why do you ask?" he wondered how he could use Izkandr's interest in Petersen to his advantage. "I just have a few additional questions for you…"

...

Later, Dr. Izkandr was presented with a number of papers to fill out before he could leave. He felt irritated and rather put upon by all this, but he continued to sign and complete the documents as requested. Tania brought him the forms and collected them as he completed each set. She sat quietly watching him, her chin resting on her hand, her eyes sad and gentle. Izkandr glanced up at her. The incident with the espresso earlier had made him feel rather off balance - that fact that such an exotic woman had approached him in such a blatant way made him feel both erotic and a little foolish. She caught his eye, blushed and looked away. A few minutes he heard her sigh.

"I 'm sorry about – earlier..." she said slowly and very quietly. He looked up from the paperwork at her. She looked away shyly then she sat up and rested her hand over her ample cleavage, "I - I'm not used to - to someone like you …a scholar." Her cheeks were still rosy and the blush slowly traveled down her throat. "I'm embarrassed about …my …my…"

"Please, it's nothing." Izkander replied, not wanting to discuss the rather embarrassing incident earlier. Embarrassing to her and to him, still - he had to admit the notion of being considered desirable to this woman was in no way unpleasant.

"Let me take you out…please - it would make me feel…less… less ashamed …please?" Tania gazed at him again, her eyes deep black pools. Dark, seductive pools, the sort of pools that any man could very well loose himself in, if he wasn't careful.

...

Elsbeth translated the last of the notes from Dr. Magnusson's log, as they finished their coffee. It seems that after a few weeks the team at the excavation had found pottery shards, some small silver ornaments, fragments of a mead container and some carved amber beads. Karen had meticulously pinpointed and detailed this material in her records, and the items had been removed from the site and were currently in storage for further examination. Aurelio felt a certain amount of disappointment to discover how little this _trove_ had produced, but Elsbeth smiled at him.

"The excavation was only a few weeks old. Had Karen had more time, she might have found quite a lot or possibly not much else - but I know she would have been happy with whatever she'd found in her discoveries. Archeological excavations like this - well - they're not all like Sutton Hoo and Tutankhamen's tomb - you know."

"Is this why you don't think that this wasn't an antiquities theft?"

"I don't know - it just doesn't seem logical. Not with such a limited amount of material to take on the site - and all the destruction - why kill Karen for some possible fragments of silver or copper pendants… why?"

Zen rubbed his face, blinked and tilted his head at a slight angle as he looked at her with a tight half grin. He'd always had a way of making himself appear angelically innocent when it suited him. Elsbeth wondered what he was up to.

"What are you thinking?"

"Any other ideas or insights about this situation that you might want to suggest?"

"You can always ask Dr. Izkandr for his opinion."

"How do you feel about Izkandr? What's your relationship with him?" Zen asked - perhaps a little too quickly. He'd noticed how impressed she'd been by the rather nondescript Englishman when they had been introduced the previous day - and Zen had to admit that he couldn't understand the appeal. But then again why should he care? _Did he care?_

"He's a brilliant scholar - a great man." Elsbeth felt her skin flush, thinking about the night before.

"You know - mamma worries about you – well – she worries about both of us…" Zen interjected, uncertain as to why he'd just brought that up. "She was so happy about seeing you at dinner – but I ought to warn you - she may try to play matchmaker…"

"Your mother's delightful." Elsbeth smiled quietly at his remark, and looked up at him. Beyond all her happy memories of their childhood games in Venice, beyond his sweet and unconditional youthful friendship, it shocked her to realize just how beautiful he was – it stunned her. He really did look as if he'd just stepped out of a Botticelli fresco.

Zen felt his heart skip a beat. Was he suddenly starting to suffer from the heart related stress that Moscatti had always complained about? For some reason just at that moment, looking at Elsbeth, he felt clumsy, unbelievably inept, and limitlessly gauche. Zen touched her small smooth hand, and he found himself admiring her long fingers. He felt a sudden electric jolt at the contact.

Just what was going on here?

What was he feeling?

She really wasn't his 'type' at all.


End file.
